Indeed
by xJojoIsHerex
Summary: Friends and colleagues, sarcastic and neurotic Delilah, flirtatious and excitable Eliza. They are an unlikely match but get on very well. Out on a case they run into the great Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson. But how? This is 2013... isn't it? Not anymore. Will sparks fly when Delilah and Sherlock go head to head in a battle of smarts? Or will Eliza just annoy the hell out of Watson?
1. 1893 or 2013?

Chapter 1  
I strolled casually down the alleyway, knowing Eliza was coming up the other way to trap the two men.  
Another case, I thought as I slammed into the first slightly shorter man, knocking him over. Just another case, I pinned the guy down.  
"Where are the codes? Tell me where they are!" I hissed, pressing into the man's throat. Behind me I could hear Eliza hitting the other slightly taller man with her handbag.  
Eliza and I have been friends for 11 years and crime solving partners for 12. The codes that we were searching for were to unlock the high security volt, had been stolen and the police hadn't been able to locate them (because they are hopeless as far as I'm concerned). The police had then put Eliza and me up to the job of finding the codes and we had been tracking these two men for several days and I had a reason to believe that they had stolen the codes.  
I demanded to know where they were again. The man coughed and gasped for breath. I loosened my hold on his throat slightly.  
"Ah, so sorry to disappoint," said the man in a slightly upper class English accent, "But those codes which you speak of shall not fall into your hands."  
With that, the man pulled out a syringe from his pocket and stuck it into my arm. Instantly I felt light headed and weak.  
"You are such a..." I started to say but my vision clouded and my eyes closed.

I awoke to the smell of coffee and gunpowder and opened my eyes.

I was lying on a golden armchair in a room I did not recognize. Then the man from the previous night came in, followed by the taller man and Eliza. Eliza saw I was awake and let go of the other man's arm and came running over.  
"Hi!" she squealed, her curly blonde hair flying around her shoulders.  
"Morning," I mumbled, turning over and blinking in the bright light. I sat up and instantly felt faint again. I fell backwards onto the cushions.  
The taller man started forward, "Careful," he said in a slight London accent, "it's just a simple anesthetic, and it should wear off right... about... now." The second he said the word 'now' my head cleared and I was able to sit up properly. I looked around, taking in the room. The walls were dark and there was the letters VR drawn in bullet holes on one of the walls. The floor was wooden and quite rough. I realized I could only feel it properly because I wasn't wearing any shoes. I stood up and picked up my boots which were beside a withered looking potted plant on the ground. I put them on and straightened up. I turned and looked over at the two men standing in front of us. The taller one held out his hand to me, I shook it. He opened his mouth to introduce himself but I got there first.  
"Judging by your attentive mannerisms, I'd say you are a doctor" I said, putting my hands behind my back and walking slowly around the room. He nodded.  
"Also, you were very precise in your estimation of when I would recover and that sort of skill is possessed by few. Your name is uh, Watson, is it not?" He nodded again.

"John Watson, yes."

"And you are...?" I came to a halt in front of the other man.  
"Sherlock Holmes." He held out his hand.  
"Ah yes, the great Sherlock Holmes." I said, shaking his hand. "I've heard a lot about you. But how are you here?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"What year is it?" I asked.  
"1893."  
"What? No, it's 2012." said Eliza.  
"Look outside." said Sherlock, "I think you're mistaken."  
I moved across to the window and stared out in amazement. Old fashioned carts, the type you see in movies, were being pulled along by horses along the road. Men with top hats and canes were walking along with women in little hats and long ruffled dresses with velvety overcoats.  
"What is this place?" I breathed.  
"London." said Sherlock, "Baker Street, but I don't think it's the Baker Street you know."  
"It's not. The Baker Street I know has a grocery store across the road and a bookshop on the corner." I said, turning round.  
"A bookshop where you spend about 90% of your life. The other 10% is spent practicing the oboe at one in the morning and-" said Eliza.  
"One Twenty Two." I corrected her.  
"And experimenting on the cat and dying your hair different colors and shooting the ceiling and-" Eliza continued.  
"I told you to get it replastered." I interrupted.  
"And drinking stuff meant for eye surgery and bullying the housemaid." Eliza finished.  
"Oh come on! I'm telling you she's trying to poison my tea!" I insisted.  
Eliza rolled her eyes and looked at Sherlock and John.  
"You see what I have to put up with?" she said.  
John smiled sympathetically, "I know the feeling."  
"On the contrary, I think it's quite understandable really." said Sherlock. "I've told you many times that Nanny's intentions are most sinister but do you listen?" He shot a look at John.  
"I doubt it." I said.  
Sherlock gave me a slight smile and John sighed from behind his newspaper. I reached for my phone in my jacket pocket and pulled it out.

Sherlock stared at my phone in amazement. So did I.

"So, if it's 1893… then why does my phone have signal?" I said.

**Ok, so um this is just a story that I came up with on holiday. I wrote another 3 chapters but they were set in modern times, because when I first came up with the idea for the story, I wanted it to be set in the present day. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted time travel to be involved somehow (because I love Doctor Who and I'm random) Let me know what you think of the story and if I should continue it and stuff….**

**Thanks and a telepathic hug,**

**J Downey (I wish :P) xxx**


	2. A gunshot and a show

Chapter 2

"Remind me why we're here again." Eliza hissed irritably as we got out of the carriage.  
"Because Sherlock said there was a show on which might give us some clues." I replied, walking up to the front door.  
"Ooh, he's Sherlock now is he?" Eliza snapped scathingly. "Honestly, you two would not shut up all afternoon. I thought I was going to have to put a gag over your mouth."  
"It wouldn't be the first time." I said.  
"Evening ma'am." A man bowed as we walked through it.  
"People are so polite here, it's so weird." Eliza whispered.  
"Better get used to it, we're stuck here unless we can find another time portal." I whispered, smiling at the man and slipping off my coat. Eliza and I had been shopping and bought some 19th century approved clothes so we wouldn't make the men faint as we walked past with our ankles on display. Scandalous!  
"God, this whole time travel thing is so..."  
I hushed her. "Shut up, we've got to find Holmes and Watson."

We walked in through the large double glass doors, bowed through by more polite men.

"There they are." I said, nodding across to the two men sitting at a table near the stage.

"Evening ladies." John said, smiling at us. I took my seat beside Sherlock with a silent nod.

"Hi!" Eliza said, sliding into the seat next to him. "You look very handsome, Doctor Watson."

John blushed and adjusted his collar. "You're very kind."

"Oh, it's no trouble." Eliza beamed.

"Easy there, Eliza." I said to her. "He's a married man." I nodded to the silver band on his finger.

John looked at me gratefully as Eliza moved to a more respectable distance, looking sulky.

"Though, why would you would want to get married, eludes me." I added, quieter.

"Excuse me?" Watson said, looking mildly offended.

"Just ignore her, she doesn't believe in marriage, or love. Or magic, or anything in particular." Eliza said, crossing her arms.

"I quite agree." Sherlock said suddenly, turning to me.

I wasn't even sure whether he'd been listening.

The show started a couple of minutes later. It wasn't that interesting and my mind wandered. I scanned the room, everything normal and uneventful. I glanced at Sherlock and found him staring straight at me. I jumped and looked quickly away towards the stage. This happened once more before the interval.

"How many times do you think the woman said thee?" Eliza asked jokingly.  
"24." Holmes said instantly.

"You forgot the prologue. 36." I said.

"I thought that one would not count the prologue in such a calculation."

I leaned my elbow on the table. "But you always count the prologue."

Holmes leaned on the table also, until we were both closer to each other.

"I have to admit I was not aware of that fact." Holmes said a little quieter.

"There are many things you are not aware of, Mr Holmes." I replied softly.

"Ugh, they're flirting again, someone get me a brandy!" Eliza said loudly. I leaned back in my seat and glared at her.

I could see Holmes concealing his embarrassment.

"We were merely engaging in a debate." I said testily.

"What sort of debate requires you to be precisely five centimetres away from each other at all times?" Watson asked sardonically.

"Seven." Sherlock corrected him.

I shot a look at him that said, "You're not helping."

I looked at Eliza and something behind her caught my eye.

"I would move if I were you." I said to her.

"Why? Am I blocking your view of another detective you can seduce?"

I rolled my eyes. "Move!" I yelled and pulled her down.

The bullet flew over her head, exactly where she had been a split second before. Silence fell over the hall. Eliza and I slowly raised our heads. I smiled awkwardly round at everybody who stared back at me in horror.

Slowly the music started up again and people returned to their conversations.

"What happened?" John said to me, looking slightly shaken.

"Someone tried to shoot our little Eliza here." I said, taking a sip from my glass of sherry.

"How can you be so casual about this?!" Eliza hissed angrily.

"You're still alive, thanks to me." I said, totally modest. "You're welcome."

Eliza sighed in exasperation.

John leaned across the wooden table, "So what do we do about it?"

"We go after..." I glanced at Sherlock.

"Him." He looked upwards to where a man was trying to make his way through the tables to leave.

John and Eliza followed his gaze.

"Right." John said and started to rise from his seat.

"Hold it." I said, pushing him back down. "I don't want you two getting hurt," I gestured to Eliza and himself. "I'll deal with this."

I stood up and started to make my way through the tables, after the man. I felt Sherlock come up behind me, I was so on edge from the adrenaline pumping through me. Some people compared me to a tiger, I lived for the thrill of the chase and the rush of the hunt. Once I got through the tables, I spun around to face Holmes, ending up a little closer than I would have liked.

He raised an eyebrow, "You didn't honestly think that I would let you go after him on your own did you?"

I stepped back away from him, "I don't need protection." I muttered angrily.

I stalked off and walked up the stairs. I leant against the wall, looking forward to where the shooter was standing. I spun around and faced Sherlock far too close for the second time.

I glared at him. He smiled a little teasing smile. He reached towards the back of my dress and I thought for a split second that he was going to undo the buttons on it and I was frozen to the spot. But instead he emerged with my knife.

He handed it to me, "Thought you might want this."

I sighed. "Right. Thanks."

I slid along the wall, holding my knife. I saw the man, making his way toward a window.

I jumped out and yelled, "Freeze!"

The man turned then cursed quietly.

"Would you mind telling me why you tried to kill my best friend?" I said, advancing on him.  
"I'm afraid I can't do that." The man said in a French accent, northern Brittany if I'm not mistaken.

In my head, I saw him move forward and knock the knife from my hand. I opened my eyes and saw the man coming towards me. I moved quickly so that the knife was pointing towards his outstretched hand, he cut the side of his hand and pulled back quickly. He looked shocked that I could react so quickly. I took a step closer, raising an eyebrow. The man looked to his right then ran. I ran after him, tearing through tapestries and curtains and other things. He ran down a set of stairs and I saw him at the other end of the stage. I grabbed a rope and unhooked it from the metal ring.

"What are you doing?" Holmes said, looking as if he was worried for my sanity.  
"Chasing the criminal, what I always do." I stepped closer to him. "You have a problem with that?"  
"Not at all, go ahead. Just..." He adjusted the rope slightly.

I stepped onto the edge of the wooden panel which ran round the perimeter of the second storey of the theatre.  
"Geronimo!" I said but only the consulting detective heard me. I swooped down, supported by the rope. It was a little longer than I had anticipated and I flew down and soared slightly above the stage, sending musicians flying.

"Sorry!" I yelled over the noise of cellos crashing to the floor. I swung over about 4 tables, people diving out of the way, plates and glasses being thrown everywhere, then jumped off the rope and landed on my feet in front of the man.

I grabbed him by his shirt, "Okay mister, start talking."  
He seemed too stunned to speak.

* * *

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages! I don't want to be one of those writers who doesn't update for like a year. **

**My exams are finished so I am going to try and update this story much more often. I promise!**

**JA xxx**


	3. Memories suck

Chapter 3

I dragged the man out into the foyer. Holmes followed me. I pushed the man up against a wall, pressing against his throat with my forearm.  
"Who sent you?" I growled.  
"F-Ferrand..." The man whispered. I let him go and he slumped against the wall.  
"You're quite good at that." Holmes said, obviously remembering when I had done the same to him.  
I grinned.  
Eliza and John came running up to us.  
"Well, did you find anything out?" Eliza said.  
I glanced at the unconscious man behind me on the floor. "Uh, yeah. He said he works for someone called Ferrand. I feel like I know him from somewhere but I can't quite remember where."

"Was it really necessary to swing down on that rope?" Eliza said as we got into the carriage.  
"Of course it was." I replied, crossing my legs.  
We arrived back at 221B Baker Street and I sighed again, reminded of the lack of technology that 1986 had to offer. I found myself missing my laptop. Tumblr especially.

I remembered my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket as I sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. I stared hard at the four bars of signal.  
"What is that contraption, may I ask?" I looked up and Sherlock Holmes was sitting next to me.  
I shrugged and handed it to him. "I've dismantled it many times before." I said, "Just lift that up."  
I lifted off the back panel and Holmes stared, fascinated by the inner workings of my phone. He took it all apart and studied the different components minutely in his hands. I leaned back on the sofa, kicking off my boots. I closed my eyes and the warm fire soon lulled me to sleep, for once.

I woke up late the next morning, hearing the clink of a cup of tea beside me.  
"Thanks." I said automatically, sitting up.  
Sherlock nodded. I picked up the cup of tea and sipped it. We sat in silence, glancing at each other every few seconds. I set down my cup of tea on the wooden side table and turned towards Sherlock. He turned towards me and we stared at each other. An understanding passed between us, each had a mutual fascination with the other. It was as if we could converse without opening our mouths; a slightly unnerving but still a very exhilarating experience.  
Eliza burst in with some exciting news about something. I groaned angrily, lying back on the sofa, "Oh, for god's sake!"  
"Was I interrupting something?" Eliza said, raising an eyebrow.  
I sighed, closing my eyes in annoyance. "No, you weren't."  
"Because you two were in here all night." Eliza said, looking between Sherlock and I suspiciously. "There could very well have been something happening."

"Young lady," Holmes began. "I can assure that nothing of the sexual nature with which you seem so obsessed occurred between myself and Miss Winters last night or this morning."

"Yeah." I nodded. "What he said."

Eliza looked unimpressed.

I vaguely heard John try and talk to me but Sherlock shushed him. I sat in a high-backed chair in the living room, my mind racing at it's top speed. I was leaning with the tips of my hands on my lips, eyes open and staring but not really seeing what was in front of me.

Everything in the present was blurred as I focused myself on Ferrand.

The image appeared in front of me. A tall slim man with brown hair, golden eyes the colour of the afternoon sun. I'd liked his eyes but also charmed him in my faster days and he'd fallen hard. I am never there to catch these people of they fall for me (and unfortunately there have been quite a few over the years) so they always fall flat on their faces. Thomas Anthony Ferrand had been no exception. He had been in my class at Cambridge. Very interested in science, physics especially.

I saw again the memory of us by the river near my home town near Cambridge, I was lying in my red dress and Thomas told me he liked me very very much and thought maybe we should take the next step in our relationship. "Would you like to meet my mother, she makes excellent fruit tarts!" No way, I hate fruit tarts, I had thought. I had replied slightly more tactfully but Thomas got very offended and ran off. He appeared a week or so later and literally cried at my feet, saying I was beautiful and he would do anything to make me happy. I said what would make me happy, would be if he would go away.

I vaguely heard over my own thoughts John say quietly as he could to Eliza, "Why does Miss Winters not believe in anything?"

"She had her heart broken. She knew the guy for ages, it was awful!" Eliza lowered her voice slightly. "She was extremely depressed, lost a lot of weight, didn't do anything, no experiments, nothing. She tried to top herself twice. I helped her; she went to a mental hospital for nine months. Came out happier than I'd ever seen her. She still gets low sometimes, drugs are her refuge. I'm trying to get her off them but it's difficult; she's so stubborn."

John looked at me with concern. I refocused to the present and glared at Eliza. She looked a little guilty. I hugged my knees in my familiar jeans. Screw the dress of the time, I wanted to wear my black jeans, button-down shirts, and leather jacket. I leaned my chin on my knees trying to refocus again. Holmes was admiring my legs in an ambiguous way. Most things about Sherlock Holmes were ambiguous to me. He was like a mystery, a case I could not quite crack and it was extremely frustrating, he obviously felt the same. I noticed his hands tense slightly whenever he looked at me and his pupils dilated. I knew what those meant and it made me nervous.

But enough about him. It was time for dinner.


	4. Deductions over dinner

Chapter 4

I sat down, uncomfortably aware of how tight my dress was.

"Couldn't you get a bigger size?" I hissed at Eliza as she sat down beside me.

"Size choices aren't exactly the best on a limited budget and in this time!" Eliza replied sarcastically.

"This is so embarrassing! I look like a hooker or something!" I whispered angrily, smoothing my hair down.

"Sherlock doesn't seem to mind." Eliza smirked.

The two men sat down in the seats opposite us. Sherlock gave me another small smile, his deep brown eyes darting as usual.

I looked down at the amount of purple fabric which clung to my body, trimmed with black lace. The lacy black false eyelashes I'd stolen from Eliza's make-up bag (I say bag, it's more like a full size travel suitcase) were the only thing I approved of apart from the high heeled ankle boots and fish net tights.

The waiter came over and took our orders, being a little too friendly towards me. I saw his pupils were dilated, signalling attraction. I nodded at him and looked straight down at the table.

Sherlock took his watch out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Well, it seems there's enough time, the service is relatively slow here." He said and moved his chair closer to mine, leaned his chin on his hand and stared at me. I stretched and looked at Holmes, waiting. His eyes raked over me, taking in every detail. My pulse quickened as he did so, for some reason I didn't really want to find out.

"Scars on the wrists from needles and blades. Signs of depression and substance abuse." Sherlock said.

I turned my hands over self-consciously so my wrists were facing down on the table.

"Tattoos on the shoulder, hips and forearms. All spontaneously chosen."

I felt myself blush, stupidly.

"Parents died in a motor car accident whenever you were young, around ten. Showing signs of a genius level intellect and deductive powers, you went to live with your uncle, rich so he was able to supply with all the books you could read, hence the strain marks beside the eyes. You were able to solve hundreds of cases of everything from stolen cars to homicide. You met Eliza for the first time, aged 13. The privileged life did not satisfy you however, so you left, on the pretext of love and ran off with the boy you'd been seeing for six months at age 16. He told you he loved you but left you half dead and even less clothed in an alley in South East London."

"You were found by Eliza here, who took you to the hospital where her father was working. You made a spectacular recovery and insisted you needed a gap year. You disappeared for one year and returned bruised, one arm in a sling but extremely happy. What happened there... only you know. You moved in with Eliza and settled down to a career as a consulting detective. Many heart breaks lead to a breakdown, fifteen months in a mental institution. Another recovery was made and you returned to Eliza" Sherlock said very quickly.

He leaned closer to me, lowering his voice a little. "Four years on, here you are; keeping your guard up because your childhood beliefs of true love and happiness are destroyed, you seek comfort in men but you never stay long. They bore you after a while, for all your deductive powers you do have a very short attention span for-"

"Holmes!" John said sharply.

Eliza looked stunned and benign. John looked disapproving. Sherlock looked satisfied, and a little sympathetic.  
The food arrived soon after, I stared at my plate, memories running through my head. I stood up quickly.

"Excuse me." I said quietly.

John looked at Sherlock as if to say, "Look what you've done, this is your fault." Holmes rolled his eyes.

I stood at the sinks in the bathrooms and splashed my face with cold water. Someone came in behind me. I turned, wiping my face with a towel. It was Eliza.

"Hi," she said, coming over. "You look a bit strange, you ok?"

"Never better," I replied, sighing. I placed my hands either side of the sink and leant on them, studying myself in the mirror. Eliza checked her hair in the other mirror.

"Sorry I didn't tell you about all that stuff." I said awkwardly, avoiding her eye.

"It's alright." She said. "It's understandable, really. It would be difficult to talk about."

I felt relieved.

"Oh, right. Okay then." I muttered, straightening up.

We walked out of the bathroom and I slid back into my seat, crossing my ankles.

Back at the apartment, I walked up to Sherlock who was sitting in his high backed armchair. I sat in the chair beside him and looked at him, then looked at the floor.

"Evening." He said.

"Uh, hi." I replied, looking at my own hands clasped in my lap.

"Do you have a particular request?" Holmes asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah." I said, grasping at the opportunity.

"Indeed?"

I stood up, and held out my hand. Holmes shrugged and grabbed my hand.

Eliza and John looked shocked as we ran past.

Eliza looked at John, "Were they holding hands?"

"I think so..." John said slowly, looking worried.

"Those two geniuses loose on 19th century London, this can't end well." Eliza said warningly.

"Where exactly are we going?" Holmes asked as we ran along the damp London streets.

"I noticed this place as we drove past on the way back." I said as we came to a stop outside a bar.

Sherlock looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes and pulled him inside.


End file.
